


when the night comes down on you

by teesandjays



Category: Gallagher Girls Series - Ally Carter
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-02 00:17:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teesandjays/pseuds/teesandjays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe doesn't sleep sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when the night comes down on you

**Author's Note:**

> just a little drabble thing i wrote a while ago that. just fixed it up and thought i'd post because i actually really like it. title's stolen from one direction's through the dark (dont talk to me about it). 
> 
> also [THIS BEAUTY FOR YOUR VIEWING PLEASURE](http://hidingbehindalegend.tumblr.com/post/67119322254/joseph-solomon-is-an-enigma-to-everyone-he-meets) because lailea is a beautiful wonderful person

Joe doesn’t sleep sometimes, Matt knows this. 

He knows that the sky is blue except when the sun is setting and it turns purple and orange and red and sets itself on fire. He knows that the grass is green but wilts brown and dry when its roots aren’t watered. He knows that leaves turn orange during autumn and the ground is covered in white during winter. The world works in patterns and routines which are as ingrained in him as the lines in his palms and the scars that criss-cross against his body.

He knows that Joe doesn’t sleep sometimes.

And when Joe doesn’t sleep he turns inwards to himself, becomes quiet and complacent with glazed over eyes set upon pale, blank faces. It makes something inside Matt twist the wrong way, like a bone broken backwards. The lump is his throat always turns to stone when he sneaks outside for a glass of water at three in the morning and he sees Joe standing in the kitchen looking out the window, watching the demons haunting him outside that Matt can’t see with his own eyes.

Matt will come up behind him, rest a hand on the juncture between his neck and shoulder and Joe will tense in surprise, oblivious to Matt’s presence until that moment. And there’ll be a tense second, when Matt isn’t sure if Joe’s just going to shrug him off or lash out against him or something, but then he’ll feel it as Joe finally breathes out, the curve of his shoulder melting into Matt’s palm. And just like that his entire body will follow, going lax and pliable, falling into Matt’s touch like it’s the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“Come on,” he’ll say softly, scared to break the timid moment hanging between them, heavy and suffocating in its rawness. And Joe will go, easy and willing like he never is with anyone else but Matt, and Matt will lead him out to the living room, his hand a steady and reassuring weight on Joe’s shoulder, and he’ll sit him down on the couch, running a hand up his neck and over the top of his head, ruffling the short hairs there.

He’ll go back to the kitchen and make a cup of tea, let it cool until it’s warm and there are barely there wisps of steam floating from the surface. He’ll carry it back to Joe, place it in his hands then take the seat next to him, rest his head on Joe’s shoulder and listen to him breathe.

Joe doesn’t sleep sometimes. But that’s okay, because when he can’t, Matt will always be there, awake at his side, breathing and alive and warm.


End file.
